


Years and Miles

by mickeym



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:11:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after first meeting the Doctor, Tommy Connelly meets him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Years and Miles

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Coda, of sorts, for _The Idiot's Lantern_ (2x7). Every time I watch that ep I wonder what Tommy's life might've ended up being, what he might've ended up doing. This just kind of came to me tonight as I was watching it again :) Hope y'all enjoy it :)

It's a bright spring day, warm sun and cool breeze, perfect for sitting in the park.

You don't take the time to just sit very often; it's easier for you to keep busy, keep going. If you slow down, you're too easy a mark for the memories, the pain, to find.

It's two years tomorrow that Gregory died. Two years that you've pushed on alone, forced yourself to keep going. You feel, some days, that all you've done during your life is grieve the loss of loved ones. You know it isn't true, but there are days it seems so.

There's a video rental shop just across the way, one of many popping up all around now. They make you smile in spite of yourself, remembering that daft fellow decades ago declaring, "I just invented the home video, thirty years early."

You've wondered many times where he and the girl – Rose, you think her name was Rose – got to. Where they came from. Who they were. He wasn't like any doctor you've ever known, before or since.

"Mind if I sit?" The voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn only to freeze in place.

"Doctor—?" He's here, out of nowhere just as before, a smile curving his lips up, his eyes warm and sparkling. He hasn't aged a _day_ ; you've never felt older than you do now, years and miles older than he appears.

"Tommy, right? Tommy Connelly." He settles on the bench beside you, same coat, same suit, same everything.

"Tom," you say, feeling your cheeks warm a bit. You've not been 'Tommy' in decades.

"Tom." The Doctor smiles at you. "All right, then?"

"I'll do." You give him a half-smile. "You?"

"It's a quiet sort of day." Something in the way he says it makes you think those are few and far between for this odd, intriguing man. "I'm waiting on a friend," he continues, and tips his head toward the video shop. "All I heard was something about dancing. I'm not much of a video sort."

"Nor me," you tell him. "Not much for telly at all, really." It took you years after the events of Coronation Day before you could even consider watching it again. Gregory loved the telly; he always watched in the evenings after work.

Sorrow wells up in you, bright and painful; sorrow for Gregory, for your Gran, for Mum. Even for Dad. You hadn't really realized just how alone you are in the world now.

"Tom?"

You've let your mind wander again, and smile sheepishly in apology. "Sorry—wool-gathering. Been doing it more and more as I get on in years." The Doctor nods, his eyes warm with understanding. You find yourself blurting out, "Tomorrow—tomorrow is the anniversary, observance, of my partner's death. Two years. It still hurts."

"I expect so," he murmurs, and reaches out, squeezing your shoulder gently. "I'm so sorry, Tom."

"Thanks," you manage, swallowing against the urge to say more. To just let it all out. "Thank you."

"It does get better." His eyes hold yours for a moment. "I mean it. It does." His smile looks rueful. "It took me a while to accept that and make peace with it. Sometimes I'm not sure I have, and then it passes." The Doctor looks away, toward the video shop where a woman is emerging, sack in hand and a smile on her face as she waves toward you – toward the Doctor. "And off we go," he's saying as he stands up. He squeezes your shoulder again. "You take care, Tom. Maybe watch a video tonight. It might help."

"It might." You smile, and almost mean it. "It was good to see you again, Doctor." That you do mean.

"And you."

He's gone quick as that, meeting the woman halfway to the bench and steering her away, toward the opposite corner of the park. The breeze floats a few words back, higher pitched, lighter than the Doctor's voice, "…was that? You could've invited him."

If the Doctor replies it's snatched away completely by the breeze. You watch until they're gone, then push up off the bench to your feet, and head for the shop.

Maybe a video will help.

~fin~


End file.
